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ADDRESS 

DELIVERED BEFORE THE 

Senate and House of Representatives 

and invited guests 
On Thursday, Jan. 19, 1905. 



Hon. Henry Cabot Lodge 



IN RESPONSE TO AN INVITATION OF THE 



General Court 




BOSTON. MASS. 
1905 



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Boston : 
Wright & Potter Printing Co., 18 Post Office Square. 






ADDRESS. 



Mk. President, Mr. Speaker, Senators and Gentlemen 
OF THE House of Representatives : — 

I am here by your invitation, which is at once an 
« honor and a command. I am to speak to you of a 

remarkable man and of a long and distinguished career 
of public service. I am to speak to you of a man who 
has taken his place in that noble company who have made 
Massachusetts what she has been in the past, what she is 
to-day, and to whom she owes her great part in history 
and her large influence in the Union of States. Here 
where Mr. Hoar rendered his first public service, here 
where he was five times commissioned to represent the 
State in the great council of the nation, is the fittest place 
in which to honor his memory and make record of our 
grief for his death. I cannot hope to do full justice 
to such a theme, but the sincerity of my endeavor and 
the affection which inspires it give me confidence to 
proceed and assure me of your indulgence, 
g Men distinguished above their fellows, who have won 

I a place in history, may be of interest and importance to 

posterity as individuals or as representatives of their 
time, or in both capacities. Hobbes and Descartes, for in- 
stance, are chiefly if not wholly interesting for what they 
themselves were, and for their contributions to human 
thought which might conceivably have been made at any 



epoch. On the other hand, Pepjs and St. Simon, sub- 
stantially contemporary with the two philosophers, are 
primarily of interest and importance as representative 
men, embodiments and exponents of the life and thought 
of their time. Benjamin Franklin, to take a later ex- 
ample, was not only deeply interesting as an individual, 
but he seemed to embody in himself the tendencies of 
thought and the entire meaning and attitude of the 
eighteenth century in its broadest significance. Mr. Hoar 
belongs to the class which is illustrated in such a high 
degree by Franklin, for he has won and will hold his 
place in history not only by what he was and what he 
did, but because he was a very representative man in a 
period fruitful in great events and conspicuous for the 
consolidation of the United States, — the greatest single 
fact of the last century, measured by its political and 
economic efl'ect upon the fortunes of mankind and upon 
the history of the world. 

To appreciate properly and understand intelligently 
any man who has made substantial achievement in art or 
letters, in philosophy or science, in war or politics, and 
who has also lived to the full the life of his time, we must 
turn first to those conditions over which he himself had 
no control. In his inheritances in the time and place of 
birth, in the influences and the atmosphere of childhood 
and youth, we can often find the key to the mystery 
which every human existence presents, and obtain a larger 
explanation of the meaning of the character and career 
before us than the man's own life and deeds will disclose. 

This is especially true of Mr. Hoar, for his race and 
descent, his time and place of birth are full of signifi- 



cance, if we would riglitly understand one who was at 
once a remarkable and a highly representative man. He 
came of a purely English stock. His family in England 
were people of consideration and substance, possessing 
both education and established position before America 
was discovered. Belonging in the seventeenth century 
to that class of prosperous merchants and tradesmen, of 
country gentlemen and farmers, which gave to England 
Cromwell and Hampden, Eliot and Pym, they were Puri- 
tans in religion, and in politics supporters of the Parlia- 
ment and opponents of the King. Charles Hoar, sheriff 
of Gloucester, and enrolled in the record of the city gov- 
ernment as " Generosus " or "gentleman," died in 1638. 
Two years later, his widow, Joanna Hoar, with five of 
her children, emigrated to ]^ew England. One of the 
sons, Leonard Hoar, chosen by his father to go to Oxford 
and become a minister, entered Harvard College, then 
just founded, and graduated there in 1650. He soon 
after returned to England, where he was presented to 
a living under the Protectorate. He married Bridget, 
the daughter of John Lisle, commonly called Lord Lisle, 
one of the regicides assassinated later at Laiisanne, where 
he had taken refuge, by royal emissaries after the King 
had come to his own again. John Lisle's wife, the Lady 
Alicia, died on the scaffold in 1685, the most famous 
and pathetic victim in the tragedy of Jeffreys' " Bloody 
Assize." Her son-in-law, Leonard Hoar, ejected from 
his living under the Act of Uniformity, studied medicine, 
and, returning to ISTew England ten years later, became 
in 1672 president of Harvard College, and died in 1675. 
Senator Hoar was descended from an elder brother of 



6 



the president of Harvard, Jolm Hoar, evidently a man of 
as strong character and marked abilities as the rest of 
his family. The old records contain more than one ac- 
coimt of his clashings with the intolerant and vigorous 
theocracy which governed Massachusetts, and of the fines 
and imprisonments which he endured ; but he never seems 
either to have lost the respect of the community or to 
have checked his speech. We get a bright glimpse of 
him in 1690, when Sewall says, in his diary on Novem- 
ber 8 of that year : — 

Jno. Hoar comes into the lobby and sais he comes from 
the Lord, by the Lord, to speak for the Lord; complains that 
sins as bad as Sodom's found here. 

In every generation following we find men of the 
same marked character, who were graduates of Harvard, 
active citizens, successful in their callings, taking a full 
share of public duties and in the life of their times. Sen- 
ator Hoar's great grandfather, who had served in the 
old French war, and his grandfather, were both in the 
fight at Concord bridge. His father, Samuel Hoar, was 
one of the most distinguished lawyers in Massachusetts. 
He served in both branches of the State Legislature, and 
was a member of Congress. Honored throughout the 
State, his most conspicuous action was his journey to 
Charleston, S. C, to defend certain negro sailors ; and 
from that city, where his life was in danger, he was 
expelled because he desired to give his legal services to 
protect men of another and an enslaved race. 

On his mother's side Senator Hoar was a descendant 



of the John Sherman who landed in Massachusetts in 
1630, and became the progenitor of a family which has 
been extraordinarily prolific in men of high ability and 
distinction. In the century just closed this family gave 
to the country and to history one of our most brilliant sol- 
diers, one of our most eminent statesmen and financiers, 
and through the female line the great lawyer and orator, 
Mr. Evarts, and E. Rockwood Hoar, distinguished alike 
as judge, as member of Congress and as Attorney-General 
of the United States. In the eighteenth century we owe 
to the same blood and name one of the most conspicuous 
of the great men who made the revolution and founded 
the United States, Roger Sherman, signer of the Declara- 
tion of Independence, signer of the articles of confeder- 
ation, signer of the Constitution, first Senator from Con- 
necticut, and grandfather of Mr. Hoar, as he was also 
of Mr. Evarts. I have touched upon this genealogy 
more, perhaps, than is usual upon such occasions, not 
only because it is remarkable, but because it seems to me 
full of light and meaning in connection with those who, 
in the years just past, had the right to claim it for their 
own. 

We see these people, when American history be- 
gins, identified with the cause of constitutional freedom, 
and engaged in resistance to what they deemed tyranny 
in Church and State. They became exiles for their 
faith, and the blood of the victims of Stuart revenge is 
sprinkled on their garments. They venture their lives 
again at the outbreak of our own revolution. They take 
a continuous part in public affairs. They feel it to be 
their business to help the desolate and oppressed, from 



8 



John Hoar, sheltering and succoring the Christian 
Indians, in the dark and bloody days of King Philip's 
war, to Samuel Hoar, going forth into the midst of a 
bitterly hostile community to defend the helpless negroes. 
The tradition of sound learning, the profound belief 
in the highest education, illustrated by Leonard Hoar in 
the seventeenth century, are never lost or weakened in the 
succeeding generations. Through all their history runs 
unchanged the deep sense of public responsibility, of 
patriotism and of devotion to high ideals of conduct. 
The stage upon which they played their several parts 
might be large or small, but the light which guided them 
was always the same. They were Puritans of the Puri- 
tans. As the centuries passed, the Puritan was modified 
in many ways; but the elemental qualities of the power- 
ful men who had crushed crown and mitre in a common 
ruin, altered the course of English history and founded 
a new state in a new world, remained unchanged. 

So parented and so descended, Mr. Hoar inherited 
certain deep-rooted conceptions of duty, of character and 
of the conduct of life, which were as much a part of his 
being as the color of his eyes or the shape of his hand. 
Where and when was he born to this noble heritage ? 
We must ask and answer this question, for there is a 
world of suggestion in the place and time of a man's 
birth, when that man has come to have a meaning and 
an importance to his own generation as well as to those 
which succeed it in the slow procession of the years. 

Concord, proclaimed by Webster as one of the glories 
of Massachusetts which no imtoward fate could wrest 
from her, was the place of his birth. About the quiet 



village were gathered all the austere traditions of the 
colonial time. It had witnessed the hardships of the 
early settlers, it had shared and shuddered in the hor- 
rors of Indian wars, it had seen the slow and patient 
conquest of the wilderness. There within its boundaries 
had blazed high a great event, catching the eyes of a 
careless world which little dreamed how far the fire then 
lighted would spread. Along its main road, overarched 
by elms, the soldiers of England marched that pleasant 
April morning. There is the bridge where the farmers 
returned the British fire and advanced. There is the 
tomb of the two British soldiers who fell in the skirmish, 
and whose grave marks the spot where the power of Eng- 
land on the IS'orth American continent first began to ebb. 
Truly there is no need of shafts of stone or statues of 
bronze, for the whole place is a monument to the deeds 
which there were done. The very atmosphere is redolent 
of great memories; the gentle ripple of the placid river, 
the low voice of the wind among the trees, all murmur 
the story of patriotism, and teach devotion to the nation, 
which, from " the bridge that arched the flood," set forth 
upon its onward march. 

And then, just as Mr. Hoar began to know his birth- 
place, the town entered upon a new phase which was to 
give it a place in literature and in the development of 
modern thought as eminent as that which it had already 
gained in the history of the country. Emerson made 
Concord his home in 1835, Hawthorne came there to 
live seven years later, and Thoreau, a native of the town, 
was growing to manhood in those same years. To Mr. 
Hoar's inheritance of public service, of devotion to duty 



10 

and of lofty ideals of conduct, to the family influences 
which surrounded him and which all pointed to work and 
achievement as the purpose and rewards of life, were 
added those of the place where he lived, — the famous 
little town which drew from the past lessons of pride 
and love of country, and offered in the present examples 
of lives given to literature and philosophy, to the study 
of nature and to the hopes and destiny of man here and 
hereafter. 

Thus highly gifted in his ancestry, in his family and 
in his traditions, as well as in the place and the com- 
munity in which he was to pass the formative years of 
boyhood and youth, Mr. Hoar was equally fortunate in the 
time of his birth, which often means so much in the mak- 
ing of a character and career. He was born on the 29th 
of August, 1826. Superficially it was one of the 
most uninteresting periods in the history of western civil- 
ization; dominated in Europe by small men, mean in its 
hopes, low in its ambitions. But beneath the surface 
vast forces were germinating and gathering, which in 
their development were to affect profoundly both Europe 
and America. 

The great movement which, beginning with the revolt 
of the American colonies, had wrought the French revo- 
lution, convulsed Europe and made Napoleon possible, 
had spent itseK and sunk into exhaustion at Waterloo. 
The reaction reigned supreme. It was the age of the 
Metternichs and Castlereaghs, of the Eldons and Liver- 
pools, of Spanish and Neapolitan Bourbons. With a 
stupidity equalled only by their confidence and insensi- 
bility, these men and others like them sought to establish 



11 



again the old tyrannies, and believed that they could re- 
store a dead system and revive a vanished society. They 
utterly failed to grasp the fact that where the red-hot 
plowshares of the French revolution had passed the old 
crops could never flourish again. The White Terror 
swept over France, and a little later the Due Decazes, 
the only man who understood the situation, was driven 
from power because he tried to establish the conditions 
upon which alone the Bourbon monarchy could hope to 
survive. The Holy Alliance was formed to uphold autoc- 
racy and crush out the aspirations of any people who 
sought to obtain the simplest rights and the most mod- 
erate freedom. To us Webster's denunciation of the 
Holy Alliance sounds like an academic exercise, designed 
simply to display the orator's power, but to the men of 
that day it had a most real and immediate meaning. The 
quiet which Russia and Austria called peace reigned over 
much wider regions than Warsaw. England cringed and 
burned incense before the bewigged and padded effigy 
known as " George the Fourth." France did the bidding 
of the dullest and most unforgetting of the Bourbons. 
Any one who ventured to criticise any existing arrange- 
ment was held up to scorn and hatred as an enemy of 
society, driven into exile like Byron and Shelley, or cast 
into prison like Leigh Hunt. 

But the great forces which had caused both the Ameri- 
can and French revolutions were not dead, — they were 
only gathering strength for a renewed movement; and 
the first voices of authority which broke the deadly quiet 
came from England and the United States. When the 
Holy Alliance stretched out its hand to thrust back the 



12 



Spanish colonies into bondage, Canning declared that he 
would call in the " New World to redress the balance 
of the Old; " and Monroe announced that in that New 
World there should be no further European colonization, 
and no extension of the monarchical principle. Greece 
rose against the Turks, and lovers of liberty everywhere 
went to her aid; for even the Holy Alliance did not 
dare to make the Sultan a partner in a combination 
which professed to be the defender of Christianity as 
well as of despotic goverimient. 

When Mr. Hoar was born the Greek revolution was 
afoot; the first stirrings of the oppressed and divided 
nationalities had begun; the liberal movement was again 
lifting its head and preparing to confront the entrenched, 
uncompromising forces of the reaction. He was four 
years old when Concord heard of the fighting in the Paris 
streets during the three days of July and of the fall of 
the Bourbon monarchy. When he was six years old 
the passage of the reform bill brought to England a 
peaceful revolution, instead of one in arms, and crumbled 
into dust the system of Castlereagh and Liverpool and 
Wellington. 

The change and movement thus manifested were not 
confined to politics. As Mr. Hoar went back and forth 
to school in the Concord Academy, the new forces were 
spreading into every field of thought and action. Re- 
volt against conventions in art and literature and against 
existing arrangements of society was as ardent as that 
against political oppression, while creeds and dogmas 
were called in question as unsparingly as the right of 
the few to govern the many. In England one vested 



13 



abuse after another was swept away by the Reform Par- 
liament, It was discovered that Shelley and Byron, the 
outlaws of twenty years before, were among the greatest 
of England's poets. Dickens startled the world and won 
thousands of readers by bringing into his novels whole 
classes of human beings unknown to polite fiction since 
the days of Fielding, and by plunging into the streets 
of London, to find among the poor, the downtrodden and 
the criminal, characters which he made immortal. Car- 
lyle was crying out against venerated shams in his fierce 
satire on the philosophy of clothes. Macaulay was vin- 
dicating the men of the great rebellion to a generation 
which had been brought up to believe that the Puritans 
were little better than cut-throats, and Oliver Cromwell 
a common military usurper. The English establishment 
was shaken by the Oxford movement, which carried New- 
man to Rome, drove others to the extreme of scepticism, 
and breathed life into the torpid church, sending its 
ministers out into the world of men as missionaries and 
social reformers. 

In France, after the days of July, the romantic move- 
ment took full possession of literature, and the Shake- 
speare whom Voltaire rejected became to the new school 
the head of the corner. The sacred Alexandrine of the 
days of Louis XIV. gave way to varied measures which 
found their inspiration in the poets of the Renaissance. 
The plays of Hugo and Dumas drove the classical drama 
from the stage; the verse of De Musset, the marvellous 
novels of Balzac, were making a new era in the literature 
of France. 

Italy, alive with conspiracies, was stirring from one 



14 



end to the other with aspirations for national unity, and 
with resistance to the tyranny of Neapolitan Bourbons 
and Austrian Hapsburgs. Hungary was moving rest- 
lessly; Poland was struggling vainly with her fetters. 
Plans, too, for social regeneration were filling the minds 
of men. St. Simon's works had come into fashion. It 
was the age of Fourier and Proudhon, of Bentham and 
Comte. 

Such were the voices and such the influences which 
then came across the Atlantic, very powerful and very 
impressive to the young men of that day, especially to 
those who were beginning to reflect highly and seriously 
upon the meaning of life. And all about them in Amer- 
ica the same portents were visible. Everything was ques- 
tioned. Men dreamed dreams and saw visions. There 
is a broad, an impassable gulf between the deep and 
beautiful thought, the mysticism and the transcendental- 
ism of Emerson, and the wild vagaries of Miller and the 
Second Adventists or the crude vulgarity of Joseph 
Smith; yet were they all manifestations of the religious 
cravings which had succeeded the frigid scepticism of 
the eighteenth century and the dull torpor of the period 
of reaction. So, too, Brook Farm and the Oneida Com- 
munity were widely different attempts to put into prac- 
tice some of the schemes of social regeneration then 
swarming in the imagination of men. Literature was 
uplifting itself to successes never yet reached in the ISTew 
World. It was the period of Poe and Hawthorne, of 
Longfellow and Lowell, of Holmes and Whittier. Ban- 
croft and Prescott were already at work; Motley was 
beginning his career with romantic novels. And then 



15 



behind all this literature, all these social experiments, all 
these efforts to pierce the mystery of man's existence, 
was slowly rising the agitation against slavery, — a dread 
reality destined to take possession of the country's history. 

These influences, these voices, were everywhere when 
Mr. Hoar, a vigorous, clever, thoughtful boy of sixteen, 
left his school at Concord and entered Harvard College 
in 1842. Brook Farm had been started in the previous 
year; the next was to witness Miller's millennium; he 
was half way through college when Joseph Smith was 
killed at iSTauvoo. In his third year the long battle 
which John Quincy Adams had waged for nearly a dec- 
ade in behalf of the right of petition and against the 
slave power, and which had stirred to its depths the con- 
science of !N^ew England, culminated in the old man's 
famous victory by the repeal of the " gag rule." 

As Mr. Hoar drew to manhood, the air was full of 
revolt and questioning in thought, in literature, in re- 
ligion, in society and in politics. The dominant note 
was faith in humanity and in the perfectibility of man. 
Break up impeding, stifling customs, strike down vested 
abuses, set men free to think, to write, to work, to vote 
as they chose, and all would be well. To Mr. Hoar, 
with his strong inheritances, with the powerful influences 
of his family and home, the spirit of the time came with 
an irresistible appeal. It was impossible to him to be 
deaf to its voice, or to shut his ears to the poignant cry 
against oppression which sounded through the world of 
Europe and America with a fervor and pathos felt only 
in the great moments of human history. But he was the 
child of the Puritans ; their elemental qualities were in 



16 



his blood ; and the Puritans joined to the highest ideal- 
ism the practical attributes which had made them in the 
days of their glory the greatest soldiers and statesmen in 
Europe, Macaulay, in a well-known passage, says of 
Cromwell's soldiers that — 

They moved to victory with the precision of machines, 
while burning with the wildest fanaticism of Crusaders. 

Mr. Hoar, by nature, by inheritance, by every influence 
of time and place, an idealist, had also the strong good 
sense, the practical shrewdness and the reverence for law 
and precedent which were likewise part of his birthright. 
He passed through college with distinction, went to his 
brother's office for a year, to the Harvard Law School, 
and thence, in 1849, to Worcester, where he cast in his 
fortune with the young and growing city which ever after 
was to be his home. But his personal fortunes did not 
absorb him. He looked out on the world about him with 
an eager gaze. As he said in his old age, — 

Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive. 

The profound conviction that every man had a public 
duty was strong within him. The spirit of the time was 
on him. He would fain do his share. When the liberal 
movement culminated in Europe in 1848, he was deeply 
stirred. When, a little later, Kossuth came to the United 
States, the impression then made upon him by the cause 
and the eloquence of the great Hungarian sank into his 
heart and was never effaced. He, too, meant to do his 
part, however humble, in the work of his time. He did 
not content himself with barren sympathy for the op- 



17 



pressed beyond the seas, nor did he give himself to any 
of the vague schemes then prevalent for the regeneration 
of society. He turned to the question nearest at hand, to 
the work of redressing what he believed to be the wrong 
and the sin of his native land, — human slavery. He 
did not join the abolitionists, but set himself to fight 
slavery in the effective manner which finally brought its 
downfall, — by organized political effort within the pre- 
cincts of the Constitution and the laws. 

Mr. Hoar had been bred a Whig. His first vote in 
1847 was for a Whig Governor, and Daniel Webster was 
the close friend of his father and brother. He had been 
brought up on Webster's reply to Hayne, and as a col- 
lege student he had heard him deliver the second Bunker 
Hill oration. In that day the young Whigs of Massa- 
chusetts looked to Webster with an adoring admiration. 
They — 

Followed him, honored him, 
Lived in his mild and magnificent eye, 
Learned his great language, caught his clear accents. 
Made him their pattern to live and to die. 

But the great command of conscience to Mr. Hoar was 
to resist slavery, and the test of his faith was at hand. 
He was to break from the dominant party of the State. 
Webster was to become to him in very truth " The Lost 
Leader." He was to join with those who called the great 
Senator " Ichabod," and not until he himself was old 
was he to revert to his young admiration of that splendid 
intellect and that unrivalled eloquence. But when the 
ordeal came, there was no shrinking. Charles Allen of 
Worcester, amid derisive shouts, announced at Phila- 
delphia, after the nomination of General Taylor, that the 



18 

Whig party was dissolved, and Mr. Hoar went with him. 
After the delegates had returned to Massachusetts, Mr. 
Hoar rendered his first political service by addressing 
and mailing a circular drawn by his elder brother, E. 
Rockwood Hoar, which invited the anti-slavery Whigs to 
meet at Worcester and take steps to oppose the election 
of either General Taylor or of General Cass, the Demo- 
cratic candidate. The convention was held in Worcester 
on June 28, became the Free Soil party, and gave their 
support to Van Buren. The result of the movement 
nationally was to defeat the Democrats in New York, as 
the Liberty party had turned the scales against Clay four 
years before. In Massachusetts the Worcester conven- 
tion marked the appearance of a group of young men 
who were to form a new school of statesmen, and who 
were destined to control Massachusetts and to play a 
leading part in guiding the fortunes of the nation for 
forty years to come. 

The Federalists, who had formed and organized the 
government of the United States, and who were essen- 
tially constructive statesmen of great power, had followed 
the men of the revolution, and in turn had been succeeded 
by the Whigs. Under the lead of Webster and Choate, 
of Everett and Winthrop and others hardly less distin- 
guished, the Whigs controlled Massachusetts for a gen- 
eration. They never had seemed stronger, despite 
Webster's personal discontent, than on the eve of Tay- 
lor's election; but it was to be their last triumph. The 
men, mostly young, who gathered at Worcester, were to 
displace them and themselves take and hold power for 
nearly forty years. There at Worcester, with Samuel 



19 



Hoar, one of the pioneers of earlier days, presiding, were 
assembled the men of the future. Charles Sumner, 
Charles Francis Adams, Henry Wilson, E. R. Hoar, 
Charles Allen and Richard H. Dana, spoke to the con- 
vention; while Palfrey the historian, John A. Andrew, 
then a young, unknown lawyer, and Anson Burlingame, 
although not present, joined with and supported them. 
These were not only new men, but they represented a 
new political school. The Whigs, inheriting the Federal- 
ist doctrines of liberal construction, were essentially an 
economic party, devoted to the industrial and material 
development of the country. The men who supplanted 
them were primarily and above all human-rights states- 
men, as befitted the time. To them the rights of 
humanity came first, and all economic questions second. 
With these men and with this school Mr. Hoar united 
himself heart and soul, swayed by the sternest and strong- 
est convictions, for which no sacrifice was too great, no 
labors too hard. He was perhaps the youngest of the men 
destined to high distinction who met in Worcester in 1848 ; 
he was certainly the last great survivor of this remarkable 
group in the largest fields of national statesmanship. 

Thus was the beginning made. The next step was an 
unexpected one. There was a Free-Soil meeting in 
Worcester in 1850. Charles Allen, who was to speak, 
was late, and a cry went up from the impatient audience 
of " Hoar ! " " Hoar ! " ISTeither father nor brother was 
present, so Mr. Hoar took the platform, and, speaking 
from the fullness of his heart and with the fervor of his 
cause, won a success which put him in demand for meet- 
ings throughout the county. The following year he was 



20 



made chairman of the Free-Soil county committee, proved 
himself a most efficient organizer, and carried all but six 
of the fifty-two towns in the county. Then, greatly to 
his surprise, he was nominated for the Legislature. He 
accepted, was elected, became the leader of the Free Boil- 
ers in the House, and distinguished himself there by his 
advocacy of the factory acts limiting the hours of labor, 
in which Massachusetts was the pioneer. He retired at 
the end of the year for which he had been chosen. In 
1857 he was nominated, again unexpectedly, to the State 
Senate, was elected, served one year with marked dis- 
tinction, and then retired, as he had from the House. 
He had, indeed, no desire for office. On coming to 
Worcester he had been offered a partnership by Emory 
Washburn, soon after Governor of the State, and later 
a professor in the Harvard Law School. This connec- 
tion brought him at once into one of the largest practices 
in the county ; and his partner's election to the governor- 
ship, which soon followed, gave him entire responsibility 
for the business of the firm. He was not only very busy, 
but he was devoted to his profession, for he possessed 
legal abilities of the highest order. Yet he was never 
too busy to give his services freely to the great cause of 
human rights, which he had so much at heart. He 
labored unceasingly in his resistance to slavery and in 
building up the Republican party, which during that 
time was fast rising into power, both in State and nation. 
It is impossible to follow him through those eventful 
years when freedom and slavery clinched in a death 
struggle far out in Kansas, and the black clouds of civil 
war were gathering darkly on the horizon. But there 



21 



are two incidents of that period which illustrate Mr. 
Hoar's character so strongly that they cannot be passed 
over. In 1854 the Know-Nothing movement broke out 
with all the force of a tropical hurricane. To men pain- 
fully struggling to bring a great cause to judgment 
against the resistance of the old and dominant parties, it 
offered many temptations. The new party was over- 
whelming in its strength ; it evidently could not last 
indefinitely; it was sound on the slavery question; and 
it promised to act as a powerful solvent and disintegrate 
the old organizations which every Free Soiler rightly 
thought was vital to their own success. But Mr. Hoar, 
unmoved by the storm, believing in freedom of con- 
science as he believed in political freedom, set himseK in 
stern opposition to a party which rested on the principle 
of discrimination and ostracism against all men of a 
certain race or of a given creed. 'No public clamor then 
or ever was able to sway him from those ideals of faith 
and conduct which were the guiding stars of his life. 

The other incident was widely different and even more 
characteristic. If there was one thing more hateful to 
Mr. Hoar than another in those days it was the return 
of runaway slaves to the south by the authorities of 
northern States. Massachusetts was the scene of some 
of the worst examples of this bad business, and the wrath 
of the people was deeply stirred. In 1854 a deputy 
marshal connected with the work of slave catching ar- 
rived in Worcester. His presence became known, and 
an angry mob, utterly uncontrollable by the little police 
force of the town, gathered about the hotel. The man 
was in imminent danger, and stricken with terror. No 



22 



one loathed a slave-catcher more than Mr. Hoar; but the 
idealist gave way to the lover of law, and ordered liberty. 
Mr. Hoar went out and addressed the crowd, then gave 
his arm to the terrified man, walked with him down the 
street, surrounded by a few friends, and so got him to 
the station and out of the town, bruised by blows, but 
alive and in safety. 

So the years of that memorable time went by. Mr. 
Hoar worked diligently in his profession, rising to the 
front rank of the bar, and laboring in season and out of 
season in support of the Republican party and of the ad- 
ministration of Lincoln when the civil war came. He 
had neither thought nor desire for public life or public 
office. He wished to succeed in his profession, to live 
quietly at home among his books, and he cherished the 
modest ambition of one day becoming a judge of the 
supreme court of the State. But it was ordered other- 
wise. In 1868 Mr. Hoar went to Europe, worn out by 
hard work at his profession. There were at the moment 
many candidates for the nomination for Congress in the 
Worcester district, and most of them were strong and 
able men. In this condition of affairs Mr. Hoar con- 
sented to let some of his friends bring his name forward, 
and then took his departure for Europe. Travel and rest 
brought back his health, and he returned home eager for 
his profession, regretting that he had allowed his name to 
be suggested as that of a candidate for any position, only 
to find himself nominated for Congress on the first ballot 
taken in the convention. So his life in Washington began, 
with no desire or expectation on his part of a service of 
more than one or two terms. At the end of his second 



23 

term he annomiced. his intention of withdrawing, and was 
persuaded to reconsider it. The fourth time he was 
obliged again to withdraw a refusal to run, because it was 
a year of peril to the party. The next time the refusal 
was final, and his successor was nominated and elected. 

His eight years in the House were crowded with work. 
He began with a very modest estimate of his own capaci- 
ties, but his power of eloquent speech and his knowledge 
and ability as a lawyer soon brought him forward. When 
S. S. Cox sneered at him one day, saying, " Massachusetts 
had not sent her Hector to the field," and Mr. Hoar 
replied that there was no need to send Hector to meet 
Thersites, the House recognized a quick and biting wit, 
of which it was well to beware. 

When Mr. Hoar entered the House, Congress was en- 
gaged in completing the work which by the war and the 
emancipation of the slaves had marked the triumph of 
that mighty struggle for human freedom to which he 
had given his youth and early manhood. He was there- 
fore absorbed in the questions raised by the reconstruction 
policy, which involved the future of the race he had 
helped to free; and he labored especially in the interests 
of that race for the establishment of national education, 
which, after years of effort constantly renewed, ulti- 
mately failed of accomplishment. But the civil war, 
besides its great triumphs of a Union preserved and a 
race set free, had left also the inevitable legacy of such 
convulsions, — great social and political demoralization 
in all parts of the country and in all phases of public 
and private life. Political patronage ran riot among 
the offices, and made Mr. Hoar one of the most ardent. 



24 



as he was one of the earliest and most effective, of civil 
service reformers. Unhappily, however, the poison of the 
time penetrated much higher in the body politic than 
the small routine offices so sorely misused under the 
" spoils system." It was an era when Cabinet officers 
and party leaders were touched and smirched, and when 
one Congressional investigation followed hard upon an- 
other. Mr. Hoar's keenness as a lawyer, his power as 
a cross-examiner and his fearless and indignant honesty, 
caused the House to turn to him for this work of punish- 
ment and purification, which was as painful as it was 
necessary. He was a member of the committee to inves- 
tigate the Freedman's Bureau, and took part in the report 
which exonerated General Howard. He was one of the 
House managers in the Belknap trial, and the leading 
member of the committee which investigated the Union 
Pacific Railroad and the scandals of the Credit Mobilier. 
But his greatest and most distinguished service came 
to him just as his career in the House was drawing to a 
close. The demoralization of the war, the working out 
of reconstruction, the abnormal conditions which war and 
reconstruction together had produced, culminated in 1876 
in a disputed presidential election. Into the events of 
that agitated winter it is needless and impossible to 
enter. The situation was in the highest degree perilous, 
and every one recognized that a grave crisis had arisen 
in the history of the republic. Finally, an electoral 
tribunal was established which settled the controversy 
and removed the danger. Upon that tribunal Mr. Hoar 
was placed by a Democratic speaker as one of the repre- 
sentatives of the House, and this appointment alone was 



25 



sufficient to fix his place as one of the political leaders 
of the country. With this great and responsible task ac- 
complished, his career in the House drew to a close. Yet 
even while he was thus engaged, a new and larger service 
came to him by his election to the Senate. He was then, 
as when he entered the House, without desire for public 
office. He still longed to return to his library and his 
profession, and allow the pleasures and honors as well as 
the trials of public life to pass by. But again it was 
not to be. There was at that time a strong and deep- 
rooted opposition to the dominance of General Butler in 
the politics of Massachusetts, and this opposition, de- 
termined to have a Senator in full sympathy with them, 
took up Mr. Hoar as their candidate, and, without effort 
or even desire on his part, elected him. 

So he passed from the House to the Senate. He en- 
tered the Senate a leader, and a leader he remained to 
the end, ever growing in strength and influence, ever 
filling a larger place, until he was recognized everywhere 
as one of the first of American statesmen, until his words 
were listened to by all his countrymen, until there gath- 
ered about him the warm light of history, and men saw 
when he rose in debate — 

The past of the nation in battle there. 

!N'either time nor the occasion permits me to trace that 
long and fine career in the Senate. Mr. Hoar was a 
great Senator. He brought to his service an intense 
patriotism, a trained intellect, wide learning, a profound 
knowledge of law and history, an unsullied character and 
noble abilities. All these gifts he expended without 



26 

measure or stint in his country's service. His industry 
was extraordinary and unceasing. Whatever he spared 
in life, he never spared himself in the performance of 
his public duty. The laws settling the presidential suc- 
cession, providing for the count of the electoral vote, for 
the final repeal of the tenure-of-office act, for a uniform 
system of bankruptcy, are among the more conspicuous 
monuments of his industry and energy, and of his power 
as a constructive lawmaker and statesman. N^or did his 
activity cease with the work of the Senate. He took a 
large part in public discussion in every political campaign 
and in the politics of his own State. He was a delegate 
to four national conventions, a leading figure in all; and 
in 1880 he presided at Chicago with extraordinary power, 
tact and success over the stormiest convention, with a 
single exception, known to our history. 

In the Senate he was a great debater, quick in retort, 
with all the resources of his mind always at his com- 
mand. Although he had no marked gifts of presence, 
voice or delivery, he was none the less a master of brilliant 
and powerful speech. His style was noble and dignified, 
with a touch of the stateliness of the eighteenth century; 
rich in imagery and allusion, full of the apt quotations 
which an unerring taste, an iron memory and the widest 
reading combined to furnish. When he was roused, when 
his imagination was fired, his feelings engaged or his 
indignation awakened, he was capable of a passionate 
eloquence which touched every chord of emotion, and left 
no one who listened to him unmoved. At these moments, 
whether he spoke on the floor of the Senate, in the pres- 
ence of a great popular audience or in the intimacy of 



27 



private conversation, the words glowed, the sentences 
marshalled themselves in stately sequence, and the ideal- 
ism which was the dominant note of his life was heard 
sounding clear and strong above and beyond all pleas of 
interest or expediency. 

So we come back to the light which shone upon his 
early years, and which never failed him to the last. Mr, 
Hoar was born in the period of revolt. He joined the 
human-rights statesmen of that remarkable time; he 
shared in their labors ; he saw the once unpopular cause 
rise up victorious through the stress and storm of battle; 
he beheld the visions of his youth change into realities, 
and his country emerge triumphant from the awful 
ordeal of civil war. He came into public life in season 
to join in completing the work of the men who had 
given themselves up to the destruction of slavery and the 
preservation of the Union. But even then the mighty 
emotions of those terrible years were beginning to sub- 
side; the seas which had been running mountain high 
were going down ; the tempestuous winds before which 
the ship of state had driven for long years were dropping, 
and bid fair to come out from another quarter. The 
country was passing into a new political period. Ques- 
tions involving the rights of men and the wrongs of 
humanity gave place throughout the world of western 
civilization to those of trade and commerce, of tariffs and 
currency and finance. The world returned to a period 
when the issues were economic, industrial and commer- 
cial, and when the vast organizations of capital and labor 
opened up a new series of problems. 

In the United States, as the issues of the war faded 



28 

into the distance and material prosperity was carried to 
heights undreamed of before, the nation turned inevi- 
tably from the completed conquest of its own vast domain 
to expansion beyond its borders, and to the assertion of 
the control and authority which were its due among the 
great powers of the earth. Many years before Mr. Hoar's 
death the change was complete, and he found himself a 
leader in the midst of a generation whose interests and 
whose conceptions differed widely from those to which 
his own life had been devoted. He took up the new ques- 
tions with the same zeal and the same power which he 
had brought to the old. He made himself master of the 
tariff, aided thereto by his love of the great industrial 
co mm unity which he had seen grow up about him at 
Worcester, and whose success he attributed to the policy 
of protection. In the same way he studied, reflected 
upon and discussed problems of banking and currency 
and the conflict of standards. But at bottom all these 
questions were alien to him. However thoroughly he 
mastered them, however wisely he dealt with them, they 
never touched his heart. His inheritance of sound sense, 
of practical intelligence, of reverence for precedent, ren- 
dered it easy for him to appreciate and understand the 
value and importance of matters involving industrial 
prosperity and the growth of trade; but the underlying 
idealism made these questions at the same time seem 
wholly inferior to the nobler aspirations upon which his 
youth was nurtured. An idealist he was born, and so 
he lived and died. 

He could say, as John A. Andrew said : " I know not 
what sins the recording angel may set against me, but 



29 

this I know, — I never turned my back on any man 
because he was poor, or because he was ignorant, or be- 
cause he was black." This was Mr. Hoar's rule of life. 
In him the poor, the unfortunate, the oppressed, whether 
in private or public, always found a friend. Disregard- 
ing all economic considerations, he resisted the exclusion 
of the Chinese; he was ready to go to war to rescue 
Armenia; he beheld in the Filipinos the modern suc- 
cessors of the men who framed the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence and of the farmers who fought at Concord 
bridge. To him discrimination on account of race was 
only less odious than discrimination on account of relig- 
ious belief. In the name of our common humanity he 
would permit no distinction to be made which rested on 
race or religion, and those who attempted to draw one 
ever found in him an untiring and fearless opponent. 

Neither scepticism nor experience could chill the hopes 
or dim the visions of his young manhood. He was imbued 
with the profound and beautiful faith in humanity char- 
acteristic of that earlier time. He lived to find himself 
in an atmosphere where this faith was invaded by doubt 
and questioning. 

How much that great movement, driven forward by 
faith in humanity and hope for its future, to which Mr. 
Hoar gave all that was best of his youth and manhood, 
accomplished, it is not easy to estimate. It is enough to 
say that the results were vast in their beneficence. But 
the wrongs and burdens which it swept away were known 
by the sharp experience of actual suffering only to the 
generations which had endured them. The succeeding 
generation had never felt the hardships and oppressions 



30 



which had perished, but were keenly alive to all the evils 
which survived. Hence the inevitable tendency to doubt 
the worth of any great movement which has come, done 
its work and gone, asserted itself; for there are no social 
or political panaceas, although mankind never ceases to 
look for them and expect them. To a period of enthu- 
siasm, aspiration and faith, resulting in great changes and 
in great benefits to humanity, a period of scepticism and 
reaction almost always succeeds. The work goes on, 
what has been accomplished is made sure, much good is 
done, but the spirit of the age alters. 

The new generation inclined to the view of science and 
history that there were ineradicable differences between 
the races of men. They questioned the theory that op- 
portunity was equivalent to capacity; they refused to 
believe that a people totally ignorant, or to whom freedom 
and self-government were unknown, could carry on suc- 
cessfully the complex machinery of constitutional and 
representative government which it had cost the English- 
speaking peoples centuries of effort and training to bring 
forth. To expect this seemed to the new time as un- 
reasonable as to believe that an Ashantee could regulate 
a watch because it was given to him, or an Arruwhimi 
dwarf run a locomotive to anything but wreck because 
the lever was placed in his hands. Through all these 
shifting phases of thought and feeling Mr. Hoar re- 
mained unchanged, a man of '48, his ideals unaltered, 
his faith in the quick perfectibility of hiunanity un- 
shaken, his hopes for the world of men still glowing with 
the warmth and light of eager youth. And when all is 
said, when science and scepticism and experience have 



31 

spoken their last word, the ideals so cherished by him 

still stand as noble and inspiring as the faith upon which 

they rested was beautiful and complete. The man who 

steered his course by stars like these could never lose his 

reckoning, or be at variance with the eternal verities 

which alone can lift us from the earth. 

His own experience, moreover, although mingled with 

disappointments, as is the common fate of man, could but 

confirm his faith and hope. He had dreamed dreams and 

seen visions in his youth, but he had beheld those dreams 

turn to reality and those visions come true in a manner 

rarely vouchsafed. He had seen the slave freed and the 

Union saved. He had shared with his countrymen in 

their marvellous onward march to prosperity and power. 

He had seen rise up from the revolt of 1848 a free and 

united Italy, a united Germany, a French Republic, a 

free Hungary. He would have been a cynic and a sceptic 

indeed if he had wavered in his early faith. And so his 

ideals and the triumphs they had won made him full of 

confidence and courage, even to the end. He, too, could 

say: — 

I find earth not gray, but rosy ; 

Heaven not grim, but fair of hue. 
Do I stoop ? I pluck a posy. 
Do I stand and stare ? All's blue. 

This splendid optimism, this lofty faith in his country, 
this belief in humanity, never failed. They were with 
him in his boyhood; they were still with him, radiant 
and vital, in the days when he lay dying in Worcester. 
It was all part of his philosophy of life, knit in the fibres 
of his being and pervading his most sacred beliefs. To 
him the man who could not recognize the limitations of 



32 



life on earth was as complete a failure as the man who, 
knowing the limitations, sat down content among them. 
To him the man who knew the limitations, but ever strove 
toward the perfection he could not reach, was the victori- 
ous soul, the true servant of God. As Browning wrote 
in his old age, he, too, might have said that he was — 

One who never tamed his back, but marched breast forward, 

Never doubted clouds would break ; 
Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph ; 

Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, 
Sleep to wake. 

He had an unusually fortunate and happy life. He 
was fortunate in the knowledge of great work done, happy 
in never knowing idleness or the distress of wondering 
painfully how to pass away the short time allowed to us 
here or the miserable craving for constant excitement so 
marked at the present moment. His vacations were 
filled as were his working hours. He travelled wisely 
and well, and the Old World spoke to him as she only 
does to those who know her history. He was a lover of 
nature. He rejoiced in the beauties of hill and stream 
and forest, of sea and sky, and delighted to watch the 
flight of the eagle or listen to the note of the song birds 
in whose name he wrote the charming petition which 
brought them the protection of the law in Massachusetts. 

He was a scholar in the wide, generous, unspecialized 
sense of an older and more leisurely age than this. His 
Greek and Latin went with him through life, and the 
great poets and dramatists and historians of antiquity 
were his familiar friends. His knowledge of English 
literature was extraordinary, as extensive as it was 



33 

minute and curious. His books were his companions, an 
unfailing resource, a pleasure never exhausted. To him 
history had unrolled her ample page, and as antiquarian 
and collector he had all the joys which come from research 
and from the gradual acquisition of those treasures which 
appeal to the literary, the historic or the artistic sense. 

To those who knew him best it was always a source of 
disappointment that he wrote so little, — that he never 
could find time, amid his engrossing cares, to produce a 
work which would have given him as assured and high a 
place in American literature as he had won and held in 
the public life of the United States. His occasional ad- 
dresses and historical studies have a fine and real literary 
quality which must make every one who reads them re- 
gret that they are only fragments disconnected with each 
other, and that they could not have been woven into a 
symmetrical whole. His autobiography, fortunately, he 
found time to write, and it has all the charm of his 
addresses and essays ; but it also possesses one quality 
more important even than literary form or historical 
value, in giving to us not only the picture of a period, 
but the veracious portrait of the author himself. Many 
of the memoirs of American public men have the dryness 
of a public document; but Mr. Hoar's autobiography is 
thoroughly human. You feel as you read that you are 
face to face with a real man, who is telling you what he 
thinks and what he did just as he saw and felt it all. If 
foibles or prejudices appear, they only add to the truth 
and honesty of the picture, and make one know that here 
at least there is neither deception nor parade. The book 
has humor, historic value, literary qualities; but, above 



34 

all, it is true to the writer himself, and that is the at- 
tribute ruost to be coveted. 

Any man of well-balanced mind who is wedded to 
high ideals is sure to possess a great loyalty of soul. It 
is from such men that martyrs have been made, — the 
true martyrs, whose blood has been the seed of churches, 
and across whose fallen bodies great causes have marched 
to triumph. But it is also from men of this stamp, 
whose minds are warped, that the fanatics, the unreason- 
ing and mischievous extremists likewise come, — those 
who at best only ring an alarm bell, and who usually are 
thoroughly harmful, not only to the especial cause they 
champion, but to all other good causes, which they en- 
tirely overlook. There is, therefore, no slight peril in 
the temperament of the thorough-going idealist, imless 
it is balanced and controlled, as it was with Mr. Hoar, 
by sound sense, and by an appreciation of the relation 
which the idealist and his ideals bear to the universe at 
large. It was said of a brilliant contemporary of Mr. 
Hoar, like him, an idealist, that, " if he had lived in the 
middle ages, he would have gone to the stake for a prin- 
ciple under a misapprehension as to the facts." Mr. 
Hoar would have gone to the stake socially, politically 
and physically, rather than yield certain profound be- 
liefs; but if he had made this last great sacrifice, he 
would have known just what he was doing, and would 
have been under no misapprehension as to the facts. 

Loyalty to his ideals, moreover, was not his only loy- 
alty. He was by nature a partisan; he could not hold 
faiths or take sides lightly or indifferently. He loved 
the great party he had helped to found in that strongest 



35 

of all ways, witb. an open-eyed and not a blind affection. 
He more than once differed from his party; he sometimes 
opposed it on particular measures; he once, at least, 
parted with it on a great national issue; but he never 
would leave it; he never faltered in its support. He be- 
lieved that two great parties were essential bulwarks of 
responsible representative government. He felt that a 
man could do far more and far better by remaining in 
his party, even if he thought it wrong in some one par- 
ticular, than by going outside and becoming a mere 
snarling critic. ISTo man respected and cherished genuine 
independence more than he, and no man more heartily 
despised those who gave to hatred, malice and all unchar- 
itableness the honored name of independence. ITothing 
could tear him from the great organization he had helped 
and labored to build up. If any one had ever tried to 
drive him out, he would have spoken to Republicans as 
Webster did to the Whigs in 1842 at Faneuil Hall, when 
he said : — 

I am a Whig, I always have been a Whig, and I always 
will be one; and if there are any who would turn me out 
of the pale of that communion, let them see who will get 
out first. 

Mr. Hoar's high ideals and unswerving loyalty were 
not confined to public life and public duty. He was not 
of those who raise lofty standards in the eyes of the 
world, and then lower and forget them in the privacy of 
domestic life and in the beaten way of friendship. He 
was brought up in days when " plain living and high 
thinking " was not the mere phrase which it has since 



36 



become, but a real belief; and to that belief he always 
adhered. He cast away a large income and all hope of 
wealth for the sake of the public service. He had no 
faculty for saving money, and no desire to attempt it. 
If he made a large fee in an occasional case, if his pen 
brought him a handsome reward, it all went in books or 
pictures, in the hospitality he loved to exercise, and in 
the most private charities, always far beyond his means. 
He once said that he had been more than thirty years 
in public life, and all he had accumulated was a few 
books; but there was no bitterness, no repining in the 
words. He respected riches wisely used for the public 
good, but he was as free from vulgar admiration as he 
was from the equally vulgar hatred of wealth. He was, 
in a word, simply indifferent to the possession of money, 
— a fine attitude, never more worthy of consideration 
and respect than in these very days. 

His love for his native land was an intense and master- 
ing emotion. His country rose before his imagination 
like some goddess of the infant world, the light of hope 
shining in her luminous eyes, a sweet smile upon her 
lips, the sword of justice in her fearless hand, her broad 
shield stretched out to shelter the desolate and oppressed. 
Before that gracious vision he bowed his head in homage. 
His family and friends, — Massachusetts. Concord, Har- 
vard College, — he loved and served them all with a 
passion of affection in which there was no shadow of 
turning. His pride in the Senate, in its history and its 
power, and his affection for it, were only excelled by his 
jealous care for its dignity and its prerogatives. He 
might at times criticise its actions, but he would permit 



37 

no one else to do so, or to reflect in his presence upon what 
he regarded as the greatest legislative body ever devised 
by man, wherein the ambassadors of sovereign States met 
together to guard and to advance the fortunes of the re- 
public. Beneath a manner sometimes cold, sometimes 
absent-minded, often indifferent, beat one of the tenderest 
hearts in the world. He had known many men in his 
day, — all the great public men, all the men of science, 
of letters or of art, — and his judgments upon them were 
just and generous, yet at the same time shrewd, keen 
and by no means over-lenient. But when he had once 
taken a man within the circle of his affections, he ideal- 
ized him immediately; there was thenceforth no fleck or 
spot upon him, and he would describe him in glowing 
phrases which depicted a being whom the world perhaps 
did not know or could not recognize. It was easy to smile 
at some of his estimates of those who were dear to him; 
but we can only bow in reverence before the love and 
loyalty which inspired the thought, for these are beautiful 
qualities, which can never go out of fashion. 

He was a fearless and ready fighter; he struck hard, 
and did not flinch from the return. His tongue could 
utter bitter words, which fell like a whip and left a scar 
behind; but he cherished no resentments, he nursed no 
grudges. As the shadows lengthened he softened, and grew 
ever gentler and more tolerant. The caustic wit gave 
place more and more to the kindly humor which was one 
of his greatest attributes. In the latter days he would 
fain be at peace with aU men, and he sought for that 
which was good in every one about him. He died in the 
fullness of years, with his affections unchiUed, his fine 



38 

intellect undimmed. He met death with the calm cour- 
age with which he had faced the trials of life. 

He took his shrivelled hand without resistance, 
And found him smiling as his step drew near. 

So he passed from among us, a man of noble character 
and high abilities. He did a great work ; he lived to the 
full the life of his time. He was a great Senator, — a 
great public servant, laboring to aid his fellow-men and 
to uplift humanity. 

He has fought a good fight, he has finished his course, he has kept the faith. 

May we not say of him, in the words of one of the poets 
who inspired his imagination, in the noble language he 
so dearly loved : — 

Koti/bi' ToS' axoi naai jroAiTait 
"HAdev deXiTTus. 
IIoXAui' SoKpvaiv (<TTai irirvKoi 
Tuv yap neydXiov a.^ionevdeli 
4>^/Liai iiaKKov Karexovtriv. 

On all this folk, both low and high, 

A grief has fallen beyond men's fears. 

There cometh a throbbing of many tears, 

A sound as of waters falling. 

For when great men die, 

A mighty name and a bitter cry 

Rise up from a nation calling. 

Note. — This English version of the last chorus in the Hippolytus of 
Euripides is taken from the remarkable and very beautiful translation 
of that tragedy by Professor Murray. 



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